"If it is possible for you and me to talk seriously about anything, Miss Maylands, I should like to speak to you about the Darches."
"I will make a supreme effort and try to be serious. As for you—"
Dolly glanced at Vanbrugh, smiled and shook her head, as though to signify that his case was perfectly hopeless.
"I shall do well enough," he answered, "I am used to gravity. It does not upset my nerves as it does yours."
"You shall not say that gravity upsets my nerves!"
"Shall not? Why not?" inquired Vanbrugh.
Dolly walked more slowly, putting down her feet with a little emphasis, so to say.
"Because I say you shall not. That ought to be enough."
"Considering that you can stand idiot asylums, kindergartens, school children, the rector and the hope of the life to come, and are still alive enough to dance every night, your nerves ought to be good. But I did not mean to be offensive—only a little wholesome glass of truth as an appetiser before Mrs. Darche's luncheon."
"Puns make me positively ill at this hour!"